


Origins

by kanronotatsu



Series: The life of a polecat [3]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4856927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanronotatsu/pseuds/kanronotatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short ficlet about a young polecat on his first raid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origins

The polecat was on his first raid when he saw his first buzzard car. The rusty spikes pointing to every direction seemed dangerous and alluring. Especially for a polecat. There was no way inside those vehicles from the top. The cat was excited, it was the sort of challenge he liked. How to take out a buzzard while not getting pierced?

He felt his palm go sweaty, the thunderstick almost slipping from his hand. Mistakes weren’t allowed now, he thought. The breeze against his skin was refreshing, it was barely past dawn, and up on the pole the air wasn’t filled with dust yet. The yelling of the other polecats and the warboys was dulled out by his thumping heart.

“Ladder! We’re going for the big one!”

His heart beat faster as he looked to the left, where the big buzzard rig was trying to hack the supply truck in half. _The big one._ For him. Ladder - he earned the name for being taller than every other kit by a head - set his foot firm on the ring and flexed his muscles, like he was taught. His grip on the thunderstick tightened, he’ll only have one shot. That should be enough.

His two counterweights were the best of the best, and Ladder showed great potential too, that’s why he was there on that raid. He was agile and flexible like a lizard, despite his big body. He had considerable muscle power too, so he could win ground fights if necessary. But he was the deadliest from a distance, his aim was precise. Word was that no matter how the pole swung beneath him, he will always hit his target. And it was true.

When the counters swung his pole close enough to the buzzard rig he quickly found two entrance points.

“Fang it, Scrap!” he yelled to their driver.

They needed to get a little bit ahead of the rig. Just a little bit. On the next swing Ladder was close enough so he could see inside the buzzard rig. The buzzard saw him too, but before he could turn the wheel to slam into the polecat’s car, Ladder threw the thunderstick. His aim was precise, as always. The blast tore apart the driver’s cabin, metal scraps and bodyparts flying everywhere. Some rusty spikes hit Ladder too, sticking out from his arm and leg. But he barely felt them, the adrenaline rush of the chase and the kill cancelled out the pain. The polecats were cheering, everyone was praising Ladder and he never felt so content in his whole life.

By the time they got back to Gastown his wounds became worse. He lost some blood too, and the rusty spikes caused him considerable pain. When their healer saw Ladder, he immediately ordered the cat to undress.

“I’m fine, Patches. Just some spikes.”

“Just _some_ spikes?! You’re covered in them, mate.”

Indeed, there were at least five of the rusty rods stuck in Ladder’s body. One particularly nasty one lodged itself into his thigh. He limped for a week after this raid. But it was worth it, he became famous. Soon the story of how Ladder took out a buzzard rig with only one shot went around.

“Big, rusty smeg spikes, stickin’ outta ‘is body all over.” his driver, Scrap recounted the event for the thousandth time, gesticulating excitedly. “And ya’ know what ‘e said to Patches? Just some _spikes_.”

No wonder that soon everyone started calling him Spikes.

 


End file.
